Level Up
by Slivering
Summary: Echizen Ryoma joins the Hyotei tennis club, and embarks on a mission to gain respect from their arrogant captain, Atobe Keigo. [Atobe/Ryoma]
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

"Play a match with me."

Atobe Keigo, captain of the Hyotei tennis team, blue eyes, black hair, and charismatic to the core, arched a brow in disbelief. He took another long sip of his water, and studied the boy in front of him. It was a freshman. He'd transferred to the school a few weeks ago, and had signed up to be a member of the tennis club.

Atobe hadn't paid him much mind. He didn't even know the kid's name.

What was the point, if he was just a puny freshman?

"Excuse me?" Atobe asked.

"Play a match with me," the freshman pointed his racquet out in a _very _cocky manner, which had Atobe's lips tightening. "I want to play you."

"Look," Atobe capped his bottle, and stood up. "I don't have time for this." He glanced up. "Hey, Kabaji? Go find this freshman some job to do. Like gathering tennis balls."

He whirled around to go take a shower, but apparently the freshman didn't know how to handle rejection. A hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, giving it a tug. Atobe's brow twitched and he turned to give him a hostile glare. "Is there something you'd like?" He churned the words out slowly and heavily.

The freshman looked keen. He had the oddest shade of gold eyes, challenging and lit.

"My name's Echizen Ryoma," his bottom lip curled. "Have a match with me."

"Practice is over," Atobe yanked his hand away. "And don't go around touching people. You might have germs."

Ryoma just peered up at him. Atobe took this moment to look at him properly. He was short and lean, with golden skin and slanted hazel eyes. He'd gotten a medium-sized Hyotei jersey, but that had obviously been too big on him, because the sleeves drooped down past his hands, and the bottom of the jacket dragged low.

"Why won't you play a match?" Ryoma said, and he drew out the words, long and sharp."Running away?"

Now, Atobe was starting to feel irritated. Who _was _this freshman, anyway? Even seniors didn't clamber up to him all arrogant and pushy, and now this Ryoma kid thought he had the right to do so? He was obviously new. Any other member would know to back off after being told twice, especially by someone as popular as Atobe.

Atobe decided to take pity on his lack of knowledge. "Do you know who I am?"

Ryoma scratched the back of his neck. "Heh. You're the captain, right?"

A slow nod. "Yes. But do you know who I am, exactly?"

The freshman squinted. "No. But you look like a Monkey."

This kid was _crossing _the line. Badly. Atobe willed himself to stay calm. "I'm Atobe Keigo, heir of the Atobe Company. I'm _rich,_" he emphasized. "I rule over two hundred people, and can get away with practically anything. I'm the only exception to the universal Hyotei rule of getting kicked off once a game is lost. I'm…"

"I don't see the point of this," Ryoma said blandly. "Do you want me to bow down, or something?"

"No," Atobe grit his teeth. "I'm just saying it wouldn't be wise to treat me in such a way."

"What way?" Ryoma grinned cheekily. "Do you want me to treat you like a king instead?"

Atobe couldn't help but feel as if he was being mocked. He smoothed out his shirt, and pressed out, "Yes. Actually, that's the way most treat me. But if don't think you can't handle that, it's best that you just stay out of the way." He narrowed his eyes. "You're only a freshman. I don't see where you're getting all this nerve."

Ryoma leaned back, racquet locked behind his elbows. "Okay," he said. He added, after a moment, "I think I'll call you Monkey King."

Atobe slumped his shoulders. This kid just _didn't _get it. He didn't understand who he was talking to. Resigning to cut the conversation off where it had started, Atobe straightened out his shirt once more, and headed for the opposite direction. "This ends here. Go pick up balls with the other freshman."

Ryoma frowned. "So I guess you _are_ running away."

_He's only trying to provoke you, _Atobe reminded himself. Besides, he really didn't have the energy to play a match right now. It was a hot day, the courts rolling in waves of heat, the sky filled with humid that matched the inside of an oven. He glanced back at Ryoma, who was heading away, jersey tight around his body. Wasn't he hot in that? He was probably sweating buckets, soaked in perspiration and – Atobe shuddered.

_Some _people just didn't understand.

And what was with that attitude?

It was wholly disgraceful.

Atobe shook his head, shoved the remainders of Echizen Ryoma out of his mind, and headed for the showers. He didn't have time to think of such minor matters, or, better said, minor _people._

* * *

"Hey, Jiroh?"

Atobe clipped a towel around his waist, and took out his moisturizing lotion. He lathered a big glop over his right leg. "Have you heard of Echizen Ryoma?"

He didn't know why he'd brought it up. He just felt so frustrated by the way Ryoma had been so unaffected by his presence, like he didn't have a care in the world that he was talking to someone that could ruin his chances of getting into university. Not that he would do that, ever. He wasn't _that _cruel.

But it still made him boil.

Jiroh rubbed his eyelids, having just woken up from a long nap. "Huh? Dunno. He…the freshman?" his words were disjointed from sleep. "I think Oishitari said he was a new member, just signed up…" Jiroh lifted his shoulder in a shrug, and thunked his head back down on the bench to welcome more slumber.

"I know that," Atobe said. "Is he any good?"

Jiroh groaned. "How am I supposed to know?" he lifted his brow, and a lazy smile spread to his cheeks. "What, has he caught your interest?"

"Hardly," Atobe nearly choked. "He's bratty. He came up and demanded a match."

"So just tell him no," Jiroh said. "No big deal."

"Yes, but – " Atobe ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. _You don't understand, _he wanted to say. _He had this __attitude_… "He was just rude." Atobe slipped his school shirt over his chest, taking a glance at himself in the mirror. He smiled at his mole, a sign of his beauty. As usual, he looked truly handsome. "I suppose it doesn't matter."

"No, it doesn't," Jiroh sounded mischievous now. "But now that I think about it, I do remember Oishitari mentioning that the new freshman was pretty cute…" A laugh escaped from the back of Jiroh's throat. "Are you sure he hasn't caught your eye, Atobe-_sama_?" More chuckles and guffaws from his so-called friend.

Atobe rigidly turned away. "I'm certain," he said. "Now if you'd excuse me…"

He was just about to leave the club room door, when a warm body hit his chest. Atobe took a step backwards, and felt the air suck out of him. Well, if it wasn't Echizen Ryoma himself, towel around his neck, eyes wide and unblinking. "Move," Atobe said, harshly, wishing he could just go home now. He really needed to sit in the bath and think.

"You should use your manners," Ryoma clucked his tongue mockingly. He slid past him. "See you tomorrow."

Atobe's shoulders stiffened. See you _tomorrow? _He was acting like they were friends. Like they were on the same level as each other. Ridiculous.

Atobe turned around, ready to threaten this freshman that Kabaji would beat him up, when he heard Jiroh yell:

"Man, Oishitari was right! He _is _cute."

Closing his eyes, Atobe took a deep breath, and saved himself further embarrassment by walking calmly out of the club room, and then, once out, speeding up his pace, until he was sprinting down the sidewalk and demanding a limo pick him up and deliver him to his house.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: And here's another chapter. For some reason, I feel like my first chapter was really good and this one sucks in comparison. Sorry. This chapter's kind of a repeat of the last chapter. I swear, I'll be more creative for the next one!**

**Kittykat10101: Hehe, thanks!**

**Duchessme: glad you find it interesting! Thanks for the review! **

**Orcux: I literally love your reviews. They're so long and make me so happy! :D Thank you so much! **

**Animelover4ever69: Indeed, they have met. And they aren't off to a very good start haha…thanks for the review!**

* * *

All of the freshmen were practicing their forehand swings except for one Echizen Ryoma.

Atobe Keigo wondered if he would ever catch a break.

_Ch', how troublesome._

Having finished his match with Jiroh, the captain of Hyotei sauntered over to where Ryoma was leaning against the fence.

After yesterday's little confrontation, Atobe _really _wasn't in the mood to have to drag Ryoma to do drills, but as the captain of Hyotei, he had certain responsibilities he couldn't dismiss. As he approached the bored figure, Atobe tried to avoid being sucked in by his appearance. _Why does the brat have to be so cute? _Wearing the oversized Hyotei jersey, Ryoma sipped nonchalantly on a can of Ponta.

"_You_," Atobe declared when he approached. "have officially stepped out of line."

Ryoma looked up, eyes landing on Atobe's face. He stared at him for a moment. "Who are you again?"

Atobe twitched. _How dare the brat pretend he doesn't know who I am – especially after I gave him that long speech yesterday about my high social status! _ "Please," Atobe flicked his hair, surveying Ryoma as if he were a petty fly. "You were on your knees for a match yesterday, so it serves you nothing but making yourself look stupid when you pretend not to know me."

Ryoma just looked at him. After a moment, a smirk flitted onto his face. "Let's have a match."

"As I already _stated _several times-"

"Yeah, yeah. You're the captain, blah blah, blah." Ryoma squared his shoulders, and took a long gulp of his Ponta. "This whole team is mada mada dane."

Was it possible for someone to get even _more _annoying in just one day?

"You're certainly a cocky freshman," Atobe grabbed the Ponta out of Ryoma's grip, causing the freshman to stumble back. Lifting his chin up, Atobe continued, "However, it seems you're all talk and no do. So far, you've done nothing but act as if you're great. You haven't even hit a tennis ball."

Ryoma just gave him an awfully smug grin. "I asked you for a match."

"And I rejected it," Atobe tried to infuse as much coldness in his voice as possible. "Now go do your drills, or I'll kick you out of the club."

Obediently, Ryoma nodded, and sauntered off to go join the other freshmen.

Atobe's grip slackened around Ryoma's Ponta. Had he finally gotten through to him?

Before he could lavish in his victory, Ryoma paused, and looked over his shoulder.

"Ne, Captain? Of course I remembered you. It's hard to forget a face that looks so much like a monkey."

Atobe grimaced. He had spoken to soon.

* * *

The clubroom situation was somewhat like déjà vu for Atobe as he tried to explain his thoughts to a half-asleep Jiroh. "He called the whole team mada mada dane," Atobe explained, waving his arms in an admittedly unroyal fashion. "And I had to take his Ponta as a punishment to get him to do basic drills."

Jiroh yawned. "Who are you talking about again?"

Atobe winced. "Jiroh! I'm talking about the brat."

Scrunching his brow, Jiroh mumbled out, "I don't remember any brat."

Sounding repulsed, Atobe coughed out, "The one you said was supposedly _cute _yesterday."

The sleepy Hyotei member blinked in thought, before his eyes lit up with recognition. Sitting up straight, Jiroh stretched his arms before smirking. "You're talking about Echizen Ryoma." He laughed. "This is the second time he's infuriated you. I'm starting to think you've taken a serious liking to him."

"A serious _dis_liking," Atobe corrected. He sniffed, and turned to Shishido. "Please tell me _you _agree?"

Shishido bent down to tie up his school shoes, brushing back his long hair. "Of course," he tied the shoelaces, looking at Atobe for only a mere second. "He has horrible work ethic, and constantly disrespects his seniors. It goes against all my morals." The hard-working player looked revolted. "I don't want to imagine the future of this team."

"Exactly," Atobe was relieved _someone _understood. "He doesn't appreciate Hyotei's grandness."

Jiroh hummed. "Oh, I don't know! He's cute, right?"

Shishido arched his brow. "That doesn't have anything to do with how he treats his senpai-tachi."

Not fazed, Jiroh replied, "Nah. We can let him off the hook if he's cute."

Atobe slung his jersey off, wondering why he was friends with Jiroh in the first place. Shishido looked exasperated as well. "He's not cute," Atobe finally said, plopping down on the bench next to Shishido and sighing tiredly. Honestly, being team captain was way too much work. He should be paid to do this. Not that he needed the money.

"Who's not cute?"

Atobe looked up just in time to see Ryoma enter the club room, sipping on a water bottle. _What is with the brat and drinks? He's always consuming liquids. _

"No one," Atobe said through tight lips.

Ryoma nodded, and his eyes lingered on Atobe's bare chest before they flicked over to Jiroh. "Ne, Jiroh-senpai, right?"

The normally sleepy male was suddenly alert. "Yeah?"

"Let's have a match."

Jiroh brightened. He looked just about ready to accept when Atobe shot him a glare that was so threatening that even the most carefree boy of Hyotei couldn't help but shrink back. He gave Ryoma a meek look. "Club time is over."

"So?" Ryoma frowned. "We can play in different courts."

Atobe felt an odd sort of jealousy that Ryoma had moved on from pestering him to Jiroh. _Wait, what? _Atobe gritted his teeth. No, of course he wasn't jealous. He was absolutely, positively _relieved _that the obnoxious freshman had stopped bothering him.

Looking disgruntled, Ryoma turned to Shishido. "How about you?"

"No," Shishido said, rigid and firm. "I don't accept matches with freshmen who can't follow basic instructions."

_You tell him! _Atobe internally decided Shishido deserved Singles 2.

Ryoma looked somewhat annoyed by the continuous rejections. "You're all mada mada dane," he mumbled under his breath before he found a space on the club room bench to change on. As he began to remove his shirt, Atobe found his eyes quite literally _glued _to Ryoma. He tried to tear them away, but they insisted on staying on the freshman.

He was _admittedly_ quite fit. And soft. Was that combination even possible?

Entranced, Atobe watched as Ryoma slipped on a pair of dark black pants, sliding them over his smooth thighs and adjusting them at his waist. Then the brat proceeded to toss on a white dress shirt, buttoning it up three quarters of the way, before evilly leaving the last two buttons undone, exposing his _admittedly _fine collarbone.

Atobe stared.

Ryoma slipped on his shoes, yawning. "Monkey King, drooling doesn't suit you."

Atobe unwillingly flushed. "I – I wasn't –"

"See you tomorrow," Ryoma walked calmly out of the club room, shutting the door behind him with a thud.

The moment he was gone, Jiroh burst out into laughter. "Sorry, Atobe, but you were _ogling!" _He looked as if his whole world had finally rejoiced.

Shishido looked as if he was suddenly questioning Atobe's sexual orientation.

Atobe looked as if he was suddenly questioning his own sanity.

"What a brat," Atobe finally huffed, grabbing his own bag and storming out of the club room.

Echizen Ryoma would _not_ get away with this disrespect. Atobe would make sure of it.

As the Hyotei captain waved over his Limo, he suddenly smiled.

And he knew exactly how to do so.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Finally, after over a year, you finally get an update. I'm terribly sorry that after so long all I've brought to you is a short, rather unnecessary filler chapter, but hey, something's better than nothing, right?

* * *

The next day, Atobe refused to lose his cool.

He had a plan to get Ryoma to obey him. It was fool-proof. It was deadly. It was known to be a terror all around Tokyo, often mentioned in high school tennis magazines. The very name caused many tennis regulars of Hyotei's rival school Seigaku to buckle to their knees – or, at the very least, run for the nearest bathroom.

Inui Juice.

Atobe walked into the change room with a smug smile on his face. A canteen of disgusting green liquid was trapped in his tennis bag. _We'll see how the brat likes his drinks after this, _Atobe thought, sliding into one of the empty benches. He was earlier than the rest of the regulars, and took the moment to stew in his plan.

Tezuka had mentioned the deadly drink on an off chance encounter a few weeks ago. Atobe had contemplated the conversation, wondering if it would help his team improve, but had tossed the idea aside. He was an _Atobe_. He didn't need to steal ideas from Seigaku. However, dire circumstances called for dire measures… and Atobe's new rival wasn't Seigaku, but one cocky Echizen Ryoma. The boy would treat him with respect if it was the last thing Atobe made sure of.

"You look happy." The door opened, and Oshitari walked in. He had his tennis bag in one hand, and his violin case in the other.

Atobe offered a rare smile. "I'm going to put the brat in his place."

Oshitari arched a brow. "Elaborate?"

"Echizen Ryoma. First year. New member." Atobe pulled out his racquet, and plucked at the strings. They were in perfect condition as usual. "He's been a real pain."

Setting aside his tennis bag, Oshitari began unbuttoning his school shirt. "It's unusual for you to be so caught up by a freshman."

Atobe irritably pulled out his lotion. "I'm not _caught _up."

An amused smile spread across Oshitari's face. "There's 200 members in our club. It's silly for you to be occupied by a single freshman… unless…" He let the sentence trail off ominously. Atobe ignored him, furiously moisturizing his legs. He didn't know why all his teammates considered it "weird" that he wanted to punish the brat.

Echizen Ryoma was a nuisance to the club. It was only natural that Atobe do something about it.

"Anyway," Oshitari continued briskly. "How are you going to set him straight?"

Atobe tugged on his sneakers. He got a new pair about every week, and each one was altered to perfection. This pair was no exception, and he admired their shiny, sleek exterior. He then returned his gaze to Oshitari, and offered a smug smile. "You'll see."

"Interesting," was all Oshitari replied with.

Over the next half hour, their expansive change room filled with tennis players. With over 200 Hyotei students in the club, it was necessary that they had an enlarged version of a clubroom. Unlike most teams, their clubroom was nearly the size of an entire house. On most days, Atobe ignored everyone but the regulars. However, this time, he had rapt attention for the freshmen – in particular, a gold-eyed, bratty one.

"He's still not here," Atobe murmured to himself, observing the steadily emptying change room with disappointment. Practice would start in five minutes, and the brat still hadn't arrived. With a shrug, he locked the club room and exited. If Ryoma came late and wanted access to the change room, he would have to ask Atobe for the key.

This would ensure that he wouldn't be able to sneak in while Atobe was busy.

Just as he was leaving, however, Oshitari gave him a weird look. "You're locking it?"

"I… ah, yes."

"Why?" the blue-haired boy asked coolly. "Someone might need to get something."

Atobe huffed, and looked away. "I have the key. They can ask me."

"But isn't that just a hassle?"

There was something about Oshitari's stare that Atobe didn't like. He didn't like it one bit.

"It doesn't matter," Atobe confirmed. He swiftly brushed past his teammate. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a club to run."

Oshitari just watched him go, before chuckling to himself. "Not caught up, huh?"

* * *

"The club room is locked."

It was a quarter into practice, and Atobe had been in the middle of getting a drink of his water. Back still turned, he allowed himself to revel in his victory. That was right. The brat was going to have to respectfully ask for the key. Composing himself, he turned around, and just merely arched a brow. "Ahn?"

Ryoma peered up at him. He was still wearing the school uniform, tennis bag slung over his shoulder. His hands were in his pockets, and his posture was languidly relaxed. "The room is locked." Ryoma gestured to the club room. "I need to change."

"Is that so?" Atobe said in a slow drawl.

Ryoma blinked wearily. "I need the key."

Atobe allowed himself to scowl. "Before I give you the key – you're late. It's already fifteen minutes into practice."

"Che." Ryoma tugged his cap down. "It's too early for this."

Hmph. Damned brat. "You know," Atobe said. "There _are _consequences for disobeying the basic rules of the club."

Ryoma rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm sorry."

Did he really think sorry was going to cut it? Atobe straightened up, and dangled the key in front of Ryoma's face. The freshman was going to suffer for his disobedience. "I'll give you the key, but once you're done, I'm going to punish you."

"Punish me?" Ryoma blinked again, tiredly. He rubbed one eye with a fisted hand, and Atobe thought it was _too cute _before he realized he was thinking the brat was cute, and Ryoma was in no way, shape or form cute. Atobe scoffed. "Did you even comb your hair?" he asked, staring at Ryoma's unruly locks. "It's a mess."

Ryoma ran his hand through his hair, looking disgruntled. "I thought this was a tennis club. Not a fashion show."

"I expect the best in all areas of my team," Atobe said. "We're known for having both the tennis skills and the good looks." He shot him a look of disgust. "We don't accept slobs."

"Good looks? I didn't know having an ape face meant being good looking."

Atobe narrowed his eyes, but took a deep breath, trying to control his internal rage. There was no need to waste precious energy over this brat. Once practice was over, Ryoma would never give him trouble again. The bottle of green liquid in his right hand would make sure of it. He decided to curtly inform Ryoma of this: "Laugh now, but you're going to have an attitude check by the time this practice is done. I'll see to it that all of that unnecessary sass is gone."

Ryoma shifted impatiently. "Whatever." He paused, and held out his hand. "Key."

With a flourish, Atobe finally handed the key to Ryoma. Their hands touched briefly in the minor exchange, and Atobe noticed that Ryoma's hands were very cold.

"You have cold hands," Atobe murmured.

Ryoma arched a brow. "Or maybe you just have sweaty hands."

_Little devil. _"Take that back," Atobe demanded.

However, Ryoma was already sauntering toward the change room, clearly not planning on apologizing. Atobe let out a frustrated sigh, and dumped his head in the palms of his head. He could already feel a strong headache coming on. How was he so easily able to control 200 team members without batting an eye, yet couldn't control one 5 foot tall freshman?

It was a mystery Atobe had a feeling he would never get an answer to.


End file.
